


Diplomacy

by lifeisyetfair



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeisyetfair/pseuds/lifeisyetfair
Summary: Maedhros chews his brothers out after their kidnapping of Luthien causes a rift with Thingol.





	Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLionInMyBed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLionInMyBed/gifts).



“Let me see if I understand this entirely,” said Maedhros with, the deathly chill in his voice matching the cold winds of Himring. “Well aware of the efforts I have made to cultivate King Thingol as an ally against Morgoth, you proceeded to kidnap his daughter?”  
  
When you put it like that, Curufin thought, it did sound short-sighted.  
  
“Not to mention,” Maglor added, “what you did to our cousin Finrod.”  
  
“’A king is he that can hold his own,’” Celegorm quoted. “Finrod could not.”  
  
Maedhros sighed. “I cannot blame you for taking what he could not hold. And you are not responsible for his death; his oath drove him, as yours did you.” Then his glance snapped back to Celegorm, the distant look fading. “But I can blame you—and you, too, Curufin—for the diplomatic disaster you created by taking Luthien!”  
  
“Much love he had for us before,” said Celegorm. “And he sought a silmaril. We owed him nothing.”  
  
Maedhros and Maglor shared an exasperated look. Curufin hated the way they held themselves above their younger brothers, the responsible parents—as if Feanor had ever been one, and as if they knew the slightest thing about being a father.  
  
But that made him think of Celebrimbor, and he tried to put the thought out of his mind.  
  
Then Maglor laughed. “Celegorm? More like Celegormless. Do you truly believe Thingol intends the mortal to return alive, much less bearing a silmaril? He meant it as an impossible quest.”  
  
“Meanwhile,” Maedhros continued, “the war effort—the only way we will ever get the silmarils back and avenge our father and grandfather—has been set back decades, if not centuries. We will never be united enough to confront Morgoth if this goes on.  
  
“I have had a message from Thingol. He says that his daughter is missing, and that having kidnapped her, you might at least have kept her safely.” At this Maedhros smiled bitterly. “He demands our aid in searching for her, and it will be granted.” He stared at Curufin. “He does not seem to know that you attempted to murder her.”  
  
Curufin held his brother’s gaze. “I’m sure you’ll tell him soon enough. You were ever swift to sell your brothers’ right, and to humble our house.” He was no Celegorm, to spend his anger aimlessly—this shaft he knew would find its mark.  
  
Maglor stepped forward, but Maedhros quelled him.  
  
“Perhaps,” he replied. “But I will tell you this. It were better your arrow had struck her heart. For her father believes her a captive of Morgoth, taken while fleeing you unprotected.”  
  
Curufin felt his brother’s rage like a white heat made fiercer by restraint. He shuddered.  
  
“If she is indeed dead, we will account ourselves lucky it was not worse, and I will intercede for you with Thingol. But if she lives yet in Angband, then indeed will I deliver you to his wrath—and you will have deserved no less.”  
  
Maedhros turned away. Neither Curufin nor Celegrom could gainsay him.


End file.
